


magic, madness, heaven, sin

by Kerasines



Category: Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Concerts, F/F, Fame, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerasines/pseuds/Kerasines
Summary: It’s the flashing lights painting colors on her eyelids, it’s the drumming bass competing with her heartbeat. It’s the manic energy rippling through the crowd in waves, the deafening, frenzied passion filling the stadium that remind Eleanor that she actually used tolikegoing to concerts.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Taylor Swift
Kudos: 13





	magic, madness, heaven, sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [objectlesson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/gifts).



> This is inspired by [objectlesson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson)'s two [amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593853) [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495850) that left me completely obsessed with this random, weird, wonderful pairing. Happy Birthday, Phoenix, this is for you!
> 
> Thanks to [Jen](https://jlf23tumble.tumblr.com/) and [Katie](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/) for the help, as always.

It’s the flashing lights painting colors on her eyelids, it’s the drumming bass competing with her heartbeat. It’s the manic energy rippling through the crowd in waves, the deafening, frenzied passion filling the stadium that remind Eleanor that she actually used to _like_ going to concerts.

Before it became a _job_. Before it became all about being seen, instead of seeing, and the anonymity of being one of thousands was stripped away from her.

For all the dozens of shows she’s attended all over the world in the past year, she never got to watch from the sidelines, either. After all, why hide her away backstage where none of the fans could see her and confirm the sweet devotion of their favourite boy bander’s very real girlfriend for themselves?

Truth is, she didn’t even realize how much it sucked the magic out of going to concerts. 

Thought she just – grew out of it. Got a too-deep look behind the curtain, saw what was really going on, and lost the taste for all of it. Which isn’t _untrue_ exactly. But.

In this moment, standing off to the side of the stage, just out of sight, watching Taylor play the crowd like they’re puppets dancing on her strings, she remembers. Being fifteen, going to festivals with her friends, getting swept up in the music, being able to forget about everything else for one brilliant moment.

And standing there on the sidelines, among crew members and managers, tapping her foot and nodding her head instead of jumping and screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs in the middle of the crowd, it feels _intimate_. Feels like she’s a _part of it_ , in a way she’s never felt before. It’s different from being a fan, and it’s _very_ different from all the One Direction shows she’s been at. There, she’s not even a fan. She’s not part of the audience that they sing to, that they perform for. And it’s been made very clear that she’s not really part of the band, either, that she’s not with them because any of them actually want her there. She’s attending shows because some higher-ups decided it would be a good idea for her to be seen there, that’s all.

But here – she’s _wanted_ here. She’s Taylor’s _personal guest_ , invited over drinks when they both tagged along to one of Louis and Harry’s secret dates for the third time, and then again over text, weeks later.

Because that’s a thing they do, now. They text. Like real, actual friends.

It’s quite heady, to think that someone as amazing and successful and brilliant like Taylor Swift seems to see something in her that makes her think she’s worth having as a friend.

Like, she’s been on the fringes of this world for a while now. She’s had flings, she’s had fleeting, superficial friendships formed over expensive champagne and even more expensive highs at someone’s afterparty. People trying to get to the boys through her. Or, perhaps even worse, people scouting for connections, getting just close enough to determine that she’s not useful enough to bother maintaining a friendship with. She chalked that up to the industry, thought that’s just how it works behind all the glitz and glamour. Ever since she met Taylor, though, she’s been wondering if maybe she just talked to the wrong people.

Eleanor’s not naive, not like she used to be, she’s pretty sure Taylor can be ruthless, and she undoubtedly knows how to make connections, or she wouldn’t be where she is today. But hearing her talk about people, about her friends, her real friends, it’s – she cares about them _so much_. 

And she’s nice, genuinely nice. Definitely a lot nicer than Eleanor expected when she first heard she’d meet _the_ Taylor Swift on a pretend double date with Louis and Harry.

After all, Taylor couldn’t possibly gain anything from Eleanor, and they both know it. So she expected the cold, charming facade, the friendly distance she got at first, but she didn’t expect it to take all of five minutes of awkward conversation for it to be replaced by warm smiles, teasing jokes, and heated looks. Didn’t expect that feeling of camaraderie, of a strange sense of shared loneliness, to blossom into a tentative friendship that exists outside of their joint outings. And yet, here she is, backstage at her concert. Personally invited, in between random conversations about cats, and baking, and persistent reminders not to let any of the bullshit get her down. 

She doesn’t know what it means, what it will lead to – what’s on the table here, exactly.

She knows what she’d _like_ it to mean, but it seems almost too much to hope for, and in any case, she could use a friend like Taylor. Someone who understands the position she’s in, knows this world she’s now a part of. Someone who likes spending time with her in spite of it, or because of it. Someone who makes her remember that she used to love concerts.

The music dies down and the crowd cheers as Taylor announces the last song. She sounds breathless over the speakers, and it’s not surprising with all the dancing and running and singing she’s been doing for what must have been over an hour. It’s incredible. 

The choreography, the wardrobe, the lightshow, it’s more than just a concert, it’s more than entertainment; it’s a bloody _performance_. This is art, Eleanor thinks to herself, all of this is art, not even just the music itself, but the whole thing.

It’s so different than what she’s heard Louis say, about not putting on a show, about letting the music speak for itself, about trying to be real, and down to earth, and connecting to the fans through that. Which, like, she gets, and she knows the fans love them being goofy on stage. She’s pretty sure Taylor could entrance a stadium with nothing but an old t-shirt, her guitar, and her captivating personality, too. She’s not so sure that the boys could pull _this_ off as well, though.

And then, suddenly, it’s over. Taylor sings the closing line, and lets the music play out, and Eleanor is hit with a wave of nerves.

She’s gonna get off stage, she’s gonna come over as soon as she finishes thanking the crowd _for being so amazing, the best, I love every single one of you,_ and they haven’t seen each other yet. Taylor was getting ready by the time Eleanor arrived at the venue, not to be disturbed. She’s gonna see Eleanor for the first time in weeks. What if it’s awkward, or weird? What if Taylor takes one look at her and realizes she doesn’t belong here. Oh, god, what if Taylor _forgot that she was here._

Christ, she needs to get a grip. She has about three seconds to tell herself it’s going to be fine before she sees Taylor getting off stage and hurrying in her general direction with a spring in her step.

As soon as she’s close enough to spot Eleanor, she beams at her. She looks absolutely exhausted, and glowing, hair wet and matted with sweat, heavy stage makeup cakey and running, that manic post-concert afterglow clinging to her, and Eleanor thinks maybe she’s going to fall in love, tonight.

She feels breathless, as if she was the one running around stage singing for an hour, and she’s trying to come up with something to say, desperately looking for the words to convey the sheer magnitude of what she feels, because _you’re amazing_ doesn’t quite cover it, but it’s the only thing ringing in her head. _You’re amazing_ , as Taylor closes the gap between them, _you’re amazing_ , as she frames Eleanor’s face with her hands trembling from exhaustion, _you’re amazing_ , as she breathes, “Hi,” red, radiant smile making her eyes sparkle.

And then even that last thought leaves her head, because Taylor leans down until their faces are almost touching, separated by a breath of air, and the noise around them fades away to nothing.

Their lips meet in a heated kiss, all the pent up energy and raw passion captivating thousands of people on that stage a minute ago pouring into it, and everything else ceases to exist as Taylor holds her close, steady despite her shaky arms, sucks her lip between hers and traces her tongue over her cupid’s bow.

It’s over too soon, or maybe it will last forever, taste of sweat and lipstick lingering on Eleanor’s tongue.

She wants more of this, more _than_ this, but Taylor just sends her one last grin as she’s being swept away by the bustling crew, undoubtedly hurried off to take a shower and get changed, leaving Eleanor to watch her disappear in the flurry of people.

Standing there, she’s sure she must look exactly how she feels, wide-eyed and slack-jawed and overwhelmed and _enchanted_. Swept off her feet. Damn near swooning from just one kiss, and, perhaps most of all, aching for more and unwilling to wait.

She grabs her bag off the floor, licks her lips and, before some assistant has the chance to lead her outside, sets off to find Taylor’s dressing room for one more taste.

**Author's Note:**

> I think if I wasn't so busy at the moment, I easily could have written ten times as much about them. Maybe I'll write a sequel someday.
> 
> [tumblr](https://kerasines.tumblr.com/).


End file.
